They can each carry from thirty-five to forty troops, depending on the weight of their weaponry. I want you and your men to proceed up the western coast, to take and hold the states of Oaxaca, Guerrero, and Michoacan on Mexico City's western flank."

"I see by the map that the country there is very desolate, with many jungles and mountains," Bergman said, giving Bundt a sidelong glance.

Gonzalez nodded. "Yes. Therefore your men will be without heavy equipment cover, no tanks or personnel carriers. But we have some smaller helicopters available to give you what air support and cover you may need, some Defenders and Kiowas."

"And the opposition we'll be facing?" Bergman asked.

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"Minimal, I suspect. Since the area is so remote, the Mexican Army is depending primarily on local police and militia to defend it. Much of your fighting will be in small villages and towns rather than in large engagements with the Army."

"If the area is so remote and underpopulated, why bother with it at all?" Bergman asked.

"The Mexican people must be made to realize there is to be a new leadership in the country. Just taking Mexico City will not be enough.

We must show a presence throughout the countryside to maintain control after we take the country."

Bergman had to admit the general had a point. It was not going to be enough to merely take over the government. The people themselves must be subjugated and made to understand a new world order was about to begin.

Besides, he reasoned to himself, better to let Loco's troops get chewed up in fighting the Mexican Army. They would undoubtedly suffer tremendous losses, while his troops would make short work of the peasants and locals they were going up against. All in all, he thought, the plan would work to their advantage.

"All right, General," Bergman said, "I'll have my men ready to move outin the morning."

Gonzalez nodded. He knew Bergman probably thought his job was going to be easy. Little did the German know how tough the mountain guerrillas were when it came to defending their homes and villages.

"I'll see that the helicopters are made ready and you are provided with all the supplies and ammunition you'll need for your campaign," Gonzalez said.

"And how will we be resupplied once the fighting begins?"

"The Chinooks can travel back and forth for food and ammunition. They cruise at one hundred thirty-eight knots, and have a range of over two hundred miles fully loaded. We'll set up fuel dumps along the way and there shouldn't be any problem."

138.

"How about your troops along the coast? The roads there won't support heavy trucks."

Gonzalez smiled. "That's why we're going to use ships and boats for supplies along the way. We'll just send them up the coast to rendezvous with the troops as they make their way northward. Supplying the troops on the Pan American Highway won't be any problem, as our trucks can travel along it quite easily."

"You seem to have it all figured out, General," Bergman said, admiration in his voice.

"Thank you, Sergei. I'll give your communications officers the command frequencies we'll be using so we can keep in touch during the battles.

If you run into trouble, I can use the Chinooks to send you reinforcements."

Bergman shook his head. "I'm sure that won't be necessary, General. My men are the best in the world at guerrilla warfare. I'm sure a bunch of peasants and policemen won't give us too much trouble."

Gonzalez smiled. Famous last words, he thought.

139.

In the Presidential Palace in Mexico City, Presidente Eduardo Pena was discussing their situation with General Jose Guerra, leader of his Army.

"But, presidente, General Raines of the SUSA has said his intelligence sources say Perro Loco is about to make another move against us,"

General Guerra said.

Pena shook his head as he sipped dark red wine from a fluted, crystal gla.s.s. "No, I do not believe it. This Perro Loco has given me his word he will not move his troops any further north as long as we do not allow Raines and his Army to come into Mexico."

"And you believe this man?" Guerra asked skeptically.

Pena slowly took a long, thick cigar out of a humidor on his desk, ran it under his nose with an expression of almost ecstasy on his face, then clipped off the ends with a golden cigar cutter. "Of course. After all,we've shown him he cannot possibly prevail against us. Didn't we defeat him soundly the last time he tried?" He smiled around the b.u.t.t of the cigar as he lit it with a gold lighter.

Guerra shook his head. The presidente was living in a dream world. He knew they would never have stopped Loco without the help of the Americans, but the young fool was too proud to admit it, even to himself it seemed.

"But, presidente, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to at least let Raines send us some of his equipment and weapons just in case Loco goes back on his word. Our materiel is outdated 140.

and all but useless against the more modern equipment at Loco's disposal."

The Mexican president stared at Guerra through clouds of blue smoke that smelled faintly of rum. "How many times do I have to tell you, Jose?

Once we let the colossus to the north get a foot in our country, they will want to take us over just as surely as this Perro Loco hombre."

Pena shook his head and turned his back on Guerra to stare out his window at the peasants in the courtyard below, selling wares to the few tourists that still came to their country.

Guerra clamped his jaw shut, lest he say something he would regret. His president was a political animal who knew next to nothing about the realities of modern warfare. He would be the ruin of the country.

"Yes, mi presidente," he said, dipping his head in obedience as he left the office.

He had a bad feeling about the upcoming weeks. He felt sure Perro Loco was not going to be satisfied with occupying only southern Mexico, and would soon be moving northward toward Mexico City. He returned to his office and began to make plans for that eventuality. He needed to ascertain who he could count on if push came to shove and he had to attempt to take over the government to save the country. He began to make a list of men he would approach over the next few days to discuss that very possibility. He would have to be very careful, for if the presidente found out he was contemplating a coup, it would mean a firing squad.

Buddy Raines was on the phone with Ben Raines. "Ben, I'm a little worried about Harley and his team," Buddy said, his voice scratchy and tinny from the scrambler.

"Why?" Ben asked.

"Jersey said she'd check in every day or two and give me a status report, but I haven't heard from her for sometime now."

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141.

"Do you have any evidence of trouble?"

"Not directly, but we saw a number of C-130's taking off and heading northward over the ocean yesterday. I think whoever is in charge of themeres has moved the timetable up and is preparing to strike earlier than we had heard."

"Well, they can't be planning to move twenty thousand men by airplane.

Have you seen any ships in the area that might be used as transports?"

"No, but they'd probably dock right on the island itself and not come through Santos."

Ben thought Buddy was right to call him. It wasn't like Jersey not to keep in touch with her backup. "If Harley and his team had to make a run for it, do you know which way they'd come?"

Buddy hesitated while he consulted a map. "Yeah, once they crossed the strait between the island and the mainland, there's only one road they could come up. There's a river a couple of miles inland that would keep them near the coast."

"Why don't you send a team of scouts along that route, just in case they're on the run and need your help. If they had to leave in a hurry, they might not have had time to pick up their radio."

"Good idea, Ben."

"And, Buddy, keep me informed, will you? I'll double-check with Mike Post and see if our satellites have picked up any unusual shipping activity in the area."

"Roger. Buddy out."

After he hung up the phone, Buddy went to the wardroom, where most of his team were having coffee and a light snack.

"Captain Stryker," Buddy said to the leader of the SEAL squad on the boat with them.

"Yes, sir," Stryker said, and got quickly to his feet.

"I'd like you to take a squad of men down the coast and see what's going on there."

Stryker raised his eyebrows. "You think Harley's team is in trouble?"

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Buddy shrugged. "Don't know, but they've been out of touch for a couple of days. Wouldn't hurt to scout around down there near the pa.s.sage to the island and see if there's any unusual activity."

Stryker nodded. "Good. My men have been sitting on then-b.u.t.ts too long.

They need a little action to keep the rust off."

Buddy held up his hand. "Not too much action, Matt. I wouldn't want to tip our hand unless Harley's team needs help."

"Sir," Stryker said with a hurt tone in his voice. "You know SEALs never go looking for trouble."

Buddy laughed. "No, but trouble always seems to find you guys sooner or later.""Buddy," Corrie said as she stood up from the table where she and Beth had been having coffee.

"Yes, Corrie?"

"Beth and I'd like to go along with Captain Stryker on this mission."

Stryker shook his head when Buddy turned to look at him for his approval.

"I don't think so, General Raines," he said, a doubtful expression on his face. "We're liable to run into some heavy action out there in the jungle."

Beth jumped to her feet. "That's nothing compared to the action you're gonna see here, Captain, if you don't let us accompany you!" she snarled, her face flushed red. "These people are part of our team, and I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll sit on the sidelines while you go traipsing after them."

Stryker shook his head, a grin forming on his lips. "Well, if you feel that strongly about it ..."

"d.a.m.ned right we do," Corrie added.

Stryker shrugged. "Then it's okay with me, as long as you think you can keep up."

Corrie glanced at Beth and smiled. "Just watch us, Captain."

143.

143.

Harley broke out of the jungle and stumbled onto clean, white sand at the edge of the island. He stood for a moment, breathing in the salty sea breeze and staring at the next step to freedom, which was a mere mile or so away. The water in the strait didn't look too rough, and bent in swells rather than true waves. Luckily there were no storms in the area to make the crossing more difficult.

He searched the beach of the Ilha de Sao Sebastiao until he found two small wooden boats pulled up on the sand past the high-water mark. They were almost eight feet in length, and had oarlocks with wooden oars in them. Neither had water in the bottom, a good sign they were seaworthy.

He gave a low whistle, and his team appeared out of the jungle that was just yards from the beach. They slogged through sand that clung to their boots, making them pick their feet up in a quirky high-step as they ran toward him.

"Here's two boats. They ought to get us across the strait," he said, shoving one down toward the gentle waves lapping at the sand in the darkness.

While Hammer and Harley pushed the two boats into the water, Anna took a roll of rope from her backpack and tied the gunwale of one boat to the stern of the other.

Once the boats were floating on the waves, Coop and Jersey stumbled down the beach, their arms around each other for support, and climbed intothe second boat, collapsing from the exertion of walking. Jersey was coughing almost continuously, while Coop, not quite as sick, was breathing heavily, his breath wheezing in his chest and sweat pouring from his body as his eyes looked at the others, almost as if he didn't quite recognize them in the darkness.

Anna shook her head when she noticed the flushed redness of their faces and their quick, heavy breathing. "They're both burning up with fever.

The aspirin's not holding them."

Hammer dipped his hand in the water. "This water's pretty cold. Let's pour some over them. It'll help lower their temperature while we paddle across."

144.

He took off his cap, filled it with cool salt.w.a.ter, and poured it over Jersey and Coop's rec.u.mbent forms lying in the bottom of the boat.

Coop sat up, sputtering and shivering from the cold water. "G.o.dd.a.m.n!

What are you trying to do? Drown us?"

"Keep your voice down, Coop," Anna said in a low, soothing tone. "It's for your own good. We need to get your temperatures down before you fry your brains."

Coop wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered almost uncontrollably. "Okay, okay, but hurry and get us across, will you?" He glanced at Jersey lying next to him, concerned that the frigid water had caused little reaction from her. "She won't last much longer."

Hammer and Harley each took an oar and began to paddle out into the ocean, with Anna sitting between them, the rope to Coop's and Jersey's boat in her hands.

It took the two big men almost an hour to paddle the mile across the strait since the current was sideways and they had to struggle to keep the boats on course for the opposite sh.o.r.e. They were sweating profusely when they arrived at the other side, in spite of the coolness of the evening air.

Once on the beach, after Coop had helped Jersey climb from their boat and they'd lain propped up against a driftwood log near the jungle's edge, Harley pushed both crafts out into the ocean and let the current pull them out of sight into the darkness.

"No need leaving any traces of where we came ash.o.r.e," he said.

He used a small hand flashlight to check his compa.s.s, Iften pointed southward into the jungle and led the team off, threading his way through the dense undergrowth as fast as he could.